by Elena Monroe
Caellum could have him. I was done being betrayed by the people I loved.
Just like my ex-boyfriend who felt me up, let his mom press charges, and not care I was forced into Arcadia Prep. Long distance almost never worked, but that asshole didn’t even try.
I contemplated everything up until right now—the mess my life had become. “Why is he so worried about the ritual? No one else has lightning coming from their fingers.”
Caellum sat down finally, still annoyed and grilling his metallic eyes into mine, like it would make me back down. “He likes sure things. Nothing about you is sure, and with the gods dead, Lady Luck and Fate aren’t smiling down on us.”
“Wait, those are real people?”
He shook his head in disgust at my inability to tell metaphor and analogy from swirling possibilities. I was never into Twilight or The Vampire Diaries, but knowing who I was made every impossible thought I ever had seem plausible now.
What else was real that I deemed childish?
“Am I free to go now? Am I your hostage?” Folding my arms against my chest, I sulked like a child, which seemed fitting for the tantrum raging inside my head.
“Leave the journal.” He was making demands while I was weak enough to overlook them.
He was underestimating me.
Mistake number one.
“No, the journal doesn’t leave my sight. Why would I trust you? You’re the enemy and looking for the ‘God Killer’.”
Grabbing the journal off the desk, the spine cracked to its limits and the folds flopped open haphazardly. He was already abusing a key piece of my evidence.
“If I was looking to kill anyone, I would have left you in the woods to die at the hands of Omari. I have no issue with having blood on my hands.”
I looked down at his hands, instinctively expecting to see blood.
Damn metaphors.
“Have you… has Bolton…?”
“We don’t get stuck as teenagers for 14 years for good behavior, Arianna. We went to whatever length we had to... to go home. Sometimes that meant seeing the stars in someone who was only a dark sky.”
I looked around the room for my phone, but the room was like one of those iSpy books with too much to look at—too many distractions for the object you desired to find.
The anxiety blooming in my chest was fully grown and ripping its way through my vital organs.
Bolton had killed innocent people, and he didn’t wear the guilt of his actions.
I was in way over my head, and all I wanted was to sacrifice my love of adventures and mischief for the mundane life I should have been living. I made sure all my things were shoved back into my bag, along with Henry Jon’s journal that I wasn’t done reading, before I backed my way out of the room. Slowly, I hoped he’d let me go.
I bumped into something hard, and when I peered around, I saw Bolton standing in the doorway, looking downright malicious.
His eyes looked black, so much depth to swim in I almost fell in just taking stock of his presence. His fists were balled up on either side of his hips, and his shoulders were so squared off that it seemed threatening to even me.
Caellum wasn’t afraid of him, and he made it clear: “Are you gonna sulk or come in?”
He stepped forward, expertly around me, like I wasn’t there at all, when Nyx appeared and grabbed Bolton’s arm, holding him back. It was like watching Bolton become glued to the ground out of nowhere. Nyx’s strength seemed unreal; then again, all of this did.
Unreal.
Awful.
Insane.
A curse I didn’t ask for.
“Fuck you, Caellum. Always have to dip into your bag of tricks, huh? You can’t ever just bow to me like you should.”
Caellum didn’t seem the least bit affected when he moved around the table and perched on its edge, putting his feet in the chair in front of him. “I don’t bow to fake kings. Zeus never crowned you, and Arianna never married you. You don’t matter any more than the dirt under my boot, demigod.”
Bolton ripped his arm away, but I saw Nyx loosen his fingers, like Caellum’s insult finally crossed a line.
Bolton stormed towards him, wiping the smirk off his face with one unseen motion. I could only see Bolton’s hand on Caellum’s shoulder. I stood still enough to not make a sound, shocked, when I realized what had actually happened, and where Bolton’s other hand was: connected to a dagger that was full-blade deep in Caellum.
He had stabbed Caellum in the stomach with one easy motion.
He stabbed Caellum to feed his own aggression.
He stabbed Caellum, knowing he might be wrong about the rules and that he may not be okay.
Caellum coughed before letting his head fall back, and I saw a trail of gold liquid run down the side of his mouth down his sharp jawline.
“Bolton!”
He didn’t turn towards me once; he was soaking the pleasure of draining the life from Caellum, and his upturned mouth proved it.
I saw a ruthless side of Bolton I hadn’t seen yet, and for whatever reason… the dangerous parts of me swooned. I could feel every part of me swirl with desire at his brute force protecting me.
I was stuck in a state of confusion that I would feel this way and infatuation for this side of him, even while my morals begged me to check Caellum for a pulse.
Nyx leaned against the wall, looking at his phone more interested than Bolton committing murder in front of us. “Do you feel better now? Can we go now? I have plans.”
Bolton stood there, watching Caellum’s lifeless body fall back, and his head hung off the other end of the desk. Bolton removed the knife, pushing Caellum’s shoulder back. He couldn’t take his eyes off him. Nothing screamed remorse or guilt; he was pleased with himself.
Accomplished even.
Standing over a traitor’s body, like the king he was and always would be, because we built him up, all the way to the throne, and now he wasn’t giving it up—even if he was powerless and every bit as malicious as he seemed.
Bolton
Caellum did enough damage while I turned a blind eye. He chose to make Arcadia Prep our battle ground, and the fight was never about going home, but about who would wear the crown that was only made to fit my head.
Demigod.
He dug his own grave when he decided we were hitting below the belt. I may have a human parent, unlike the rest of the circle, but I only needed one to be considered royalty in Olympus.
I pushed my way past Arianna, who was shedding a displaced tear for Caellum. I was already a type of pissed off that gets people beheaded, and now she was pushing me even further into the arms of disobedience.
“Whisk those fucking crocodile tears away. He isn’t dead, Arianna. It’ll just slow him down.”
She pushed her face up to look at me. The tears were running down her face, and now her eyebrows pinched together in the middle. “You’re a monster.”
She was calling me a monster, but I could tell by her hard nipples and the extra violet in her eyes twinkling back at me that she was turned on. Arianna was turned on by the monster that had been lying and hiding instead of showing its face.
I shifted behind her, leaning down enough to whisper right into her ear, “I’m pretty sure it's ‘Betrothed’ to you, but ‘King’ is fine for now.”
Nyx was grinning ear to ear, seemingly no longer worried about their history we still couldn’t grasp… or he was just trying not to end up on the other end of my blade, like Caellum.
“Nice going, New Girl. Piss off the demon inside him; that’ll save us all.” He spoke while following Bolton out of the room, with his eyes still glued to his phone screen.
I listened to every word of their exchange, somewhat ready for some safe word to drag all the memories back.
She caught up to his side and asked, “Can I borrow your phone? I have to text Luna.”
Nyx twisted out of reach, as her hand lunged for his phone. “What makes you think I’m texting Luna?”
“You always have that stupid grin on your face when you’re texting Luna. I know, because she gets the same one.”
They both are so in love that their bodies can’t help it. Someone wanna fill him in so he can stop being angry about losing Arianna?
“Better than the other faces I make, alone, in my room while undressing her in my mind.”
I was sure his confession had her blushing all the way to her core, which was still aching for me.
I had more bad qualities than good right now, yet her clit was throbbing harder than ever for me.
“Use mine,” I told her. “We have a game tonight anyways. I’ll meet you there. Stay with Luna and Kate.”
“We have a game? Since when?”
“Since… any team who forfeits can request a game at any time.”
I glared at Nyx, already utilizing his full power and soaked in dream-like memories of Arianna—my Arianna.
“We were supposed to have a girls’ night. How long was I even gone?”
I stopped walking away from her, and all the anger she was kicking up abruptly. “Five hours. You stormed off like a child five hours ago. And for five hours of my day I looked all over for your ass. And who came to save you Arianna? Me. So next time you wanna tell me I don’t wear a goddamn crown, you better rip it off my head first.”
I watched her eyes drown in an ocean of unshed tears, and her face tried to iron out how much it was folding under my harsh words.
Almost—that’s how close she made me to feeling bad. She looked broken, stressed, and cursed, just like the rest of us. I had broken her resistance and attitude in a few sentences.
She shoved me out of her way. “You’re such as asshole, Bolton. No wonder I ran away when it came time to marry you!”
I let her shove past me, out of my sight, with my phone, because she just remembered something. Her remembering was the best feeling I’ve had in fourteen years, and I wasn’t letting it be ruined by her spite. Knowing Arianna, she’d force herself to forget just to have nothing to say to me.
Nyx loomed, unamused and ready to let the aggression out on the field. “She just keeps running away. Well, well, our king was always without a queen.”
He walked past me, the same way she did with a shifted shoulder and palm against my chest, like they’d blow me over in the process.
“I remembered something too. That wasn’t your first kill. We’ve done that before…” he shouted, as the distance grew between us and my patience was thinning.
No shit.
I, Zeus’s play-thing, was constantly doing what no one else would, like killing, and finding Arianna every time she disappeared and wiggled her way out from under his thumb.
At least someone other than fucking Caellum was remembering.
The field was already lit up, and the stands were filling in like this was planned. The energy was ringing in the air as I walked out of vision, finding the door to the locker room, before pulling it open with so much force I almost hoped I injured myself.
I had better things to do tonight than tame Nyx and Austin from taking everything out on the other team.
Opening my locker felt routine. I was on autopilot, moving without trying, when I started to get ready. I didn’t even see Nyx out of the corner of my eye when he barked behind me. “How many times, Bolton? How many times did we do that? How many times did I take the heat for your actions?”
He was remembering more.
Moments were triggering both of their memories to coming back tenfold.
“I didn’t need anyone to take any heat for me, so relax. I had Zeus’s blessing in everything I did for the gods!”
The locker room was full, and everyone could hear us, but neither of us cared. We wanted to fight it out until gold poured from countless wounds.
He was my best friend, here and in Olympus, and nothing was going to change that—not how much blood was on my hands or Arianna’s love. Until he remembered that part, we were perpetually stuck in this hatred.
“Did you ever think the gods were… oh, I don’t know… wrong? Maybe this is hell, and we’re being punished for all the shit we did!”
His fist plowed through the locked lockers and the puncture of it cracked over my eardrums painfully. I forced myself not to flinch. I had no relay powers, no way to protect myself. I only had my flagrant disregard for their abilities.
That always threw powerful people off—nonbelievers.
“Speaking ill of the dead, now? Is that how much you want your memories to be wrong? No one forced you to balance sex and death; it’s who you are.”
The locker room seemed quiet as we argued; there wasn’t even the sound of anyone moving around or gear being picked through. It made both of us halt our words, letting them push against our teeth to keep them inside.
We both looked around at everyone moving around, getting ready, only we couldn’t hear anything, and apparently they couldn’t hear us. We were yelling and arguing and damn near blows. No one was cheering us on or videoing it for whatever fucking social media app they preferred.
“What’s going on…?” It wasn’t a question; it was an accusation meant for whoever was behind this trick.
I was in the clear. Demigods didn’t have power… not like this.
“Jasper! Knock it off!” Nyx shouted at nothing.
Jasper swiveled around a row of lockers, with his beanie covering most of his ink-colored hair, only a few strays stuck out at the edges. His brown eyes were mostly yellow; the gold accents were taking over dominance and the brown became the background. He looked unassuming, uninterested, and cocky at all times.
“You’re welcome, your majesty.” Everything to come out of his mouth was sarcasm.
How did Arianna’s own sarcasm not seek him out first? Together they could kill the entire population with a smile and sarcastic remark.
“You can’t just use, Jasper…” I pushed past Nyx and his moral dilemma. I had problems that only a gold ring and crown could fix.
Crime and punishment.
He moved a hand gracefully through the air, like he needed to direct the abilities he had. “You could say thank you next time I save your asses.”
We weren’t Hogwarts students, vampires, or witches; we were gods. No wand needed.
I shoved a flat palm into his shoulder, making it clear there were rules to using now that Arianna was acting as a catalyst, I said, “Does it look I need saving, Jasper? Stay out of this.”
Her being at Arcadia Prep alone shifted the air and gave everyone a boost in their abilities—ones we forgot existed, because she’d been missing so long this last time.
“You aren’t the only one who can help, Bolton. Zeus made you king, but I don’t have to bow.”
He pushed off the lockers, pushing his back towards me, and the sounds around us swelled up all at once, like the sound was up all the way and you forgot when you pushed play.
Jasper was pushing my last nerve; everyone was, by suddenly questioning my authority.
Nyx whisper-shouted to himself a simple, “What the fuck?”
My ears were still adjusting to the white noise that went missing, and it was surprising I even heard him. He didn’t need an answer, and I didn’t have one anyways.
Austin tried to lighten the mood by bringing up the Harvest Dance, while we geared up. “I’m gonna ask Kate after the game, so let’s try not to lose this one. I don’t want a pity yes.”
“She’s your fucking girlfriend; she’s not going to say no, bro.”
Kate was deemed a queen, not my queen, by the student body for being full of demands and for her bubbly voice that acted as a double-edged sword. She wore pink and her voice bubbled with friendliness, but nothing about Kate was friendly.
Everyone assumed we were together, king and queen; it made sense. Austin worked very hard to make sure people knew they were together, with his public displays, like the one he was describing happening after the game.
It was tradition to ask someone to t
he Harvest Dance in some over-the-top way.
I never took part in it; no one was worth me going to some ridiculous lengths. Arianna was worth it, but I was pretty sure she wasn’t talking to me now.
I snapped back into the conversation instead of thinking of my betrothed, who didn’t want anything to do with me now.
“I think I’m gonna ask Luna. She deserves it…” Nyx’s voice was still unsure.
Peace offering? Trying to avoid feelings for Arianna? Pity on Luna’s big heart being destroyed by the truth?
Coach’s larger-than-life voice rang through the room: “Let’s go! What do I got, a bunch of girls on the team? Hurry up!”
I grabbed my helmet and headed for the door. I wanted this game to be over with, this day, this nightmare… this curse.
The lights were on high, illuminating the field, every blade of grass and imperfection in high definition detail. I was captain. I had to lead this team with some kind of motivation, or I might as well throw myself on the bench and let this end in a quick loss. I waved the team over to huddle up, throwing my helmet on the ground and crushing it under my foot.
What was I supposed to tell the faces looking back at me? What kind of king doesn’t have the perfect words before heading into battle?
Arianna’s words kept repeating in my head: Powerless. Powerless. Powerless.
I had never felt like more of a fraud than at her hand, her words. Her absence didn’t break me as much as her hate-fueled words.
Without realizing it, I went from looking up at the grey sky to my eyeline falling to the sidelines, looking for her purple hair. My queen had ruined me in a way I wasn’t shrugging off. One look… that’s all I needed. One second of our eyes locking, and I would see Fate at work.
This was all written in the stars—her, the circle, the gods dying, this prison. This was the calm, and she was my storm, lightning and all.
Purple hair… there. I had spotted her climbing the stairs with Kate and Luna.
Turn around, Ari. Turn around.
I was pleading in my head, while my team’s eyes were all glued to me for some kind of hype, confidence, to win this game.
